Hayley found it kind of weird that all the dresses the stylist brought out for her were... modest. Not entirely modest — most of them had sheer fabrics that would require her to wear a slip or at least a very pretty bra — but all of them had sleeves and skirts that fell below the knees. She didn't mind, though. Showing off her body wasn't much of a priority when she dressed, and the clothes were all so beautiful. Expensive. She wondered if she could pick one that didn't cost too much and then insist on paying for it herself.

When Hayley stepped out of the fitting booth into dressing room, Deborah Williams swept a critical eye over her. A stylist whom Hayley had admired for as long as she could remember, Deborah wore a black and white print dress with clean lines and white stilettos. She was a black woman in her thirties, beautiful with perfectly coiffed curly hair and a quiet elegant air. It was unnerving having a perfectly-dressed woman stare at Hayley, but not only was Deborah nice, but she recognized that Hayley had an eye for style herself when they were picking out accessories. The outfit Hayley was wearing was a sheer off-white dress with elaborate embroidery in black and silver thread. It had a full multi-layered skirt whose hem brushed her ankles and sleeves that covered her upper arms. A thick, wide lace-trimmed belt wrapped snugly around her torso like a corset. "Maybe the belt is a bit much," Deborah said.

Hayley nodded in agreement. She glanced at Gabriel, who sat, legs crossed, in a large wing-backed armchair. His face was impassive as he regarded her outfit. "Do you have anything you can't..." he said, then cleared his throat. "Something you can't see through?"

So the long skirts and sleeves were his idea, Hayley thought. She felt blood rush to her head in embarrassment. Was her body so unattractive that he wanted her to cover up?

"This are this season's designs," Deborah said. The corner of her mouth pulled up in a grin. "If you like, I could go through last year's."

He sighed. "Never mind." To Hayley, he asked, "Do you like it?"

She swallowed her hurt. It felt like he had looked her over and found her wanting. Well, she couldn't exactly help the way she looked, could she? And he was the one who decided she was good enough to be his pretend girlfriend, so he had to deal. "I do. But there's another one I'd like to try," she said, glancing at Deborah, who nodded.

Hayley stepped back into the fitting booth and pulled off her dress. It was all it took for her to hide her embarrassment during the past hour they'd been going through dresses. Gabriel found fault with everything — each dress was either too short, too loud, too skin-baring. Luckily for her, they were at a private fitting. She knew that couture fashion shops had private fittings for select clientele but she never imagined she would ever experience it. Not only was she in a private fitting, but Gabriel had hired one of L.A.'s most sought-after stylists to assist her in picking out the dress. If only she could enjoy the whole thing. She grit her teeth with determination as she put on a skirt. It was one of the shorter ones, with a tasseled hem that fell just around her knees. She paired it with a white sheer full-sleeved top edged with black embroidery and some black lace, under which she wore a lace camisole and her bra. There, she thought as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, that should be enough cover up even for Gabriel.

His eyes lit up in approval as she walked back into the room. But a stubborn part of her refused to give him victory. She was a grow-ass adult. She would choose her clothes. "I like this one," she said firmly. If he was buying her this dress, it would be because it was her choice, not his.

"Turn around," he said.

Gritting her teeth, she did as he ordered. "Well?"

He nodded at Deborah. "We'll take it."

Hayley guessed the outfit would set her back around ten grand, at least, if she insisted on paying for it. Luckily, the party didn't require her to wear an actual evening dress, which would definitely have cost a lot more. Gabriel took it for granted that he would be paying for it, but maybe if she beat him to it...

But just as she turned toward the fitting booth, he added, "And we'll take all the other outfits too. The ones she liked. Deborah, please be sure she has the right shoes and accessories."

Hayley groaned inwardly as she drew the booth curtains shut. There was no way she could pay for all of that, even if she somehow beat him to the bill. Crap. She was trying really hard to keep as much of her independence as she possibly could, but he wasn't making it easy. But then this was something she should have thought about before agreeing to this deal. How naive she was to think she could pose as his girlfriend in her homemade clothes and shoes she bought at Target? Of course she'd need a completely new wardrobe, one she couldn't possibly afford even with the hundred grand he'd paid her. He was Gabriel Sin. He couldn't be seen dating a girl who dressed like the help.

I thought she was the maid.

He didn't know it, but Hayley had overheard his conversation with his sister earlier. It was at that moment that she realized why Emmanuelle had been dismissive, made Hayley bring her water, then ignored her like she was a piece of furniture. Maybe this was why Gabriel was buying her so many clothes today — so his friends wouldn't mistake her for the housekeeper too.

One million dollars, she reminded herself. She was getting paid a lot of money for this job. Sure she had to lie to people and endure humiliation —probably on a daily basis — but that would all be worth it, right?

***

Gabriel frowned when Hayley entered the living room. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?" Hayley glanced down at her outfit. It was the ensemble they had picked out for the party. "I thought you liked this one."

In a few long strides, he was in front of her. His heart was beating unusually fast, but that was only because he was annoyed. Pulling his gaze away from her chest, he focused on her face. "Where's the rest of your underwear?"

"Oh." She shrugged. "It was a little hot, so I took off the camisole."

"Put it back."

To his surprise she only straightened her back, and his attention was drawn once again to her breasts. They were encased in the most sinfully revealing white bra under her almost entirely see-through blouse.

If she noticed his gaze, she didn't show it. "We're going to be late, Gabriel," she said, brushing past him and walking toward the door.

Ignoring his pointed glare, she sat down on a chair and put on her boots.

Who was this woman? In the two previous times he'd met her, she hardly showed any skin. The main reason he'd hired her to pose as his girlfriend was because neither her face nor her body held any appeal to him. Not that she was suddenly appealing now. Of course she wasn't. Her breasts weren't particularly spectacular or anything. They weren't even that big. It's just that the bra molded each one quite snugly. Too snugly.

She raised her eyes and caught his gaze.

Fuck. Did she catch him staring at her chest?

"Did you forget something?" she said, one eyebrow raised.

"No." He hesitated, then opened his mouth to tell her to change her outfit, then thought better of it. "Let's go."

"You're driving?" she said, when he picked up his car key.

"Yes." He paused, then grinned. "Unless you want to do it?"

***

It was a mistake.

Gabriel shouldn't have let Hayley drive. For one thing, it left him with nothing to do but notice the way her skirt hiked up her legs every time she moved her feet over the pedals. Seriously, he didn't remember that skirt being so short.

It would be an hour's drive to the villa at Redondo Beach where Edward's birthday party was going to be held. Gabriel needed an distraction. Fortunately, he and Hayley needed to discuss a few things before she met his cousin and friends.

"Any allergies?" he said.

"Pollen, I guess," she said. "You?"

"I have mild lactose intolerance. Then there's cats. Favorite food?"

"Seafood. I love shrimp. What about you?"

"My mother's dumplings. And Thai food."

"Oh I love dumplings."

"You ever tried Thai?"

She looked sheepish. "I can't really eat spicy food, so I stay away from it."

"It's not all spicy, you know."

"No?"

"I'll take you to my favorite Thai place sometime. I'm sure we can get you something you'll like."

"Okay." She smiled.

They exchanged other information they would be expected to know as a couple: birthdays (they were both born in May), siblings (Gabriel had two sisters, Hayley had an older brother), and what they did for work.

It turned out that Hayley worked in sales at a lingerie shop. "Do you like working in retail?" he said.

"It's okay."

"Why do you work there?"

She bit her lip, thinking. She looked as though she was debating how much to tell him. Then she said, "I like fashion."

"Do you?"

"Yup. I've been trying to get a job as a stylist, but ... well, the job market is tough."

"What about design?"

"I'm too boring to be a designer."

"Is that what they told you?"

"Oh no. It's just something I know about me."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he asked her where she worked.

"It's a small independent shop called Ilaria. It's downtown, on East 7th street." She frowned. "You don't expect me to quit my job, do you?"

"Why would I do that?"

"I dunno. I'm not sure what kind of girlfriend you wanted."

"You."

She shot him a startled look. "What?"

"Someone who has her own life. A job. Friends. Someone who has better things to do than wait all day for me to come home."

"I'm not sure I know anyone like that."

"I just want you to know that's not what I expect from you."

"That's good. I guess." She gave him a tentative smile. "I know this is a bit late to be asking this, but what do you expect from me?"

"Just be yourself." Without thinking, he let his gaze drop. Why was that skirt so very short? He hadn't noticed until now that the fabric was ridiculously thin. "I could drive now, if you like."

"I'm fine. Honestly, this car drives like a dream."

"Why do you know how to drive a ... stick?" He had to pause before the last word, because it conjured up thoughts he really shouldn't be thinking.

"I had to practice on my Mom's car, which was super old. Why do you drive a stick?"

"I like the control, I guess."

He liked the way her fingers curled over the rounded tip of the gear shift. Too much, possibly.

"Relax, I won't break your stick."

He looked up to meet her eyes, and realized he'd been staring at her hand.

"No," he said firmly, mostly to himself. "I'm sure you won't."

Not if he could help it. 

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